


Hunter

by kabrox18



Category: Crysis Series (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Downing a prey that fights is everything. It brings the term "thrill of the hunt" to a new meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunter

There’s a tense silence that burns against their ears, the Hunter stalking along nearby. Where he is--nobody’s exactly sure. All that cuts through the aching empty air is the heavy sloshing of muddy water around thick boots. There’s the sweep of weapons jerking through the air, bobbing with every shallow breath. No Ceph, maybe, but the Hunter’s far worse, far more savage and unforgiving. A swish, the CO’s hand gesturing upward and to three o’clock. Faint shimmer, distortion of the leaves-- _thunk._ The private’s head is pinned to a nearby rotten tree by an arrow. No point in calling for backup. This fight’s already over.

The Hunter drops to the ground, water jumping back from him and sloshing in deep peaks and troughs. The cloak drops, the shimmer becomes real; the suit ripples with blue for just a moment. The bow dips, garish red visor tilting one way, then the other.

“You aren’t shooting,” he notes, seeming apathetic to the lack of depleted uranium being slung at him.

“Why try?” the Warrant Officer to the right snaps, tone demanding. Rare to see anyone grow the balls required to snap back at Prophet, let alone actually do it.

Three seconds pass, no arrow through the operative’s skull.

“You nearly stopped me a few times.”

“With a full force,” the CO retorts. Prophet says nothing, head tilted _just so_. The angle brings a look of vague interest to the expressionless visage. More silence, pregnant with gravity and the faint-faraway sound of animals.

“So you aren’t going to make any effort at all?” The Hunter finally questions, cleaving the silence with distortion-laced words. There’s a pulling to the words, as if Prophet is distracted by something.

“There’s no point.”

“Then I’ll leave. I have no interest in hunting those who put no effort in fighting back.” The remainders look amongst themselves, visors blocking out the wide-eyed stares of shock. They get a look at that powerful back, lined with long slate bands, and just like _that_ , the Hunter is gone.

Prophet just left them to survive.

“Command’s never gonna believe us,” CO says. Warrant Officer slowly turns, looking to the three others, garbed in grey hexagonal camo.

“Nikolai’s corpse?”

“Bring the arrow, too.”

“Wonder what brass’ll say?” The other Private wonders aloud.

“Likely talk of capturing the old fuck. He did walk right up to us and lower his bow.” CO comments, flapping a hand dismissively.

Two men lift the one dead, pulling the arrow free of its place lodged in soft, dying wood.

“Let’s go. The sooner we get back, the better.”


End file.
